


Inherently Evil

by ElenaCee



Series: Devil's Trap [20]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Divine Parenting, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural Elements, Theological Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenaCee/pseuds/ElenaCee
Summary: Chloe still has certain thoughts, Lucifer still has certain doubts, and a certain Nephilim isn't out of the picture yet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I started this series (before it was a series), I received a comment wishing for twenty parts. Over a year later, here we are :) Thanks for staying with me this whole time, and welcome new readers.

Chloe finished her third drink, feeling mellow and light and maybe a little bit tipsy. Linda, next to her, was obviously in a similar state as she slammed her glass onto the counter, giving the bartender an unmistakable refill signal and throwing Chloe a questioning look.

She listened inside, finding to her own surprise that there was room for one more.

“Right on!” Linda approved, speech only slightly slurred. “I must say, you and Lucifer, it’s really good for you. Really good.”

“You mean bad for my liver,” Chloe said, half to cover her irrepressible smile because, yes, Lucifer was really good for her for so many reasons, and half to acknowledge her own slightly uncharacteristic behavior.

Well. Uncharacteristic from Linda’s point of view, maybe. She had only met her when she’d already been deeply entrenched in her cop persona, so she had never seen her during her Hot Top High School days. If Chloe was honest with herself, she was merely returning to her old form, one she hadn’t thought she still had in her. And that most certainly was down to Lucifer.

And, yeah, she had to admit it felt good, so there was that.

“The liver’s regenerative powers are widely underestimated,” Linda said, raising her glass in salute. “So no, I mean this is good for you, period. You’re relaxing, enjoying life.” She took a sip and smacking her lip. “So’m I. Man, this is good.”

“Enjoying life, and love,” Chloe added, taking a sip of her own. “All the deadly sins.” She reconsidered. “Well, maybe not all of them. Lust, definitely, though.”

Linda giggled, then covered her mouth. That had been a  _ cute _ giggle.

Chloe supposed she could cut her friend some slack in light of the row of empty glasses in front of her. Lucifer’s free drinks for his friends policy certainly wasn’t wasted on the therapist.

“And this,” Linda said, pointing at those selfsame glasses. “Which sin is that, anyway? Gluttony?”

“Not sure,” Chloe admitted, “but yeah, gluttony’s one of mine, definitely. His cooking is out of this world.” She ran her hand over her stomach. “I’ll need to go on a diet pretty soon if I don’t rein him in. And me.”

Linda had seen her motion. “It’s none of my business, so feel free to bop me one,” she said, enunciating carefully. “Any plans for, well, that?” She looked at Chloe’s lower body.

Chloe blushed. “Nope, no plans,” she said, trying not to sound regretful. She was okay with it, dammit. “Lucifer thinks it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Because of the Apocalypse?” Linda asked, wide-eyed.

“Nah. That’s all nonsense, apparently. No, it’s because nobody knows if half-angels are inherently evil or not. Also, God has rules against it. Seems like there’s been precedents, and we’ve seen one for ourselves hell-bent on killing Lucifer, so. Bottom line, he agrees with his Father for once. He doesn’t want to risk it.”

Linda nodded. “And what do  _ you _ think?”

“I’m telling myself he’s right, and I do already have Trixie. I’m okay with what I have. I am.” She hesitated. The alcohol was warm in her belly, and Linda was looking at her as if already knowing what she really wanted to say, so she supposed there was no harm in saying it out loud. “I… I can’t stop thinking about it, Linda. Whenever we make love, there’s something inside of me that hopes that this time it will happen.” She downed her drink. “It won’t, though. Lucifer has to also want it, or it simply won’t happen. It’s a Celestial thing, apparently. And so far….” She trailed off.

“Why don’t you tell him how you feel?” LInda asked gently.

Chloe sighed. “He’s made his position clear, and I don’t want to pester him. He may end up doing it for me without really wanting it.” She noticed Linda’s look. “This may sound crazy, but I have too much power over him. I don’t want to abuse it.”

“How do you mean?”

She smiled, even though her emotions were too complicated for a simple smile. “I mean if I told him to jump, he wouldn’t even ask ‘how high?’. He’d just jump. Into an abyss, if there happened to be one in front of him.”

Now it was Linda’s turn to smile. “You do know that none of us can actually make anyone do anything they wouldn’t want to do themselves deep down somewhere, right?”

“I know, yeah,” Chloe said, waving for another refill. It’d be a tough day tomorrow, but what the hell. As Lucifer was so fond of saying, even an immortal life was too short. “Normally, I’d agree. But this is Lucifer, who for some reason has decided that I hung the moon and the stars, not him. Well. That’s not quite true. I do know the reason. And sometimes, it just makes me so mad.”

Linda was still looking at her with her ‘I’m listening’ face, and Chloe was tempted to spill all of it - how she was only beginning to make the Devil get used to being loved, how she suspected he still thought of himself as inherently unlovable despite her best efforts, how she could still render him incoherent with a simple touch because he was so desperately hungry for it while not allowing himself to think he deserved it. How he was so, so grateful to her, so deeply in love. How he still feared it would be over between them any day, was still terrified of her ending it, and how he would do anything for her, just to have one more day, one more hour, with her. And all that because he’d been cast out of his home when he was still too young to have developed any coping mechanisms, and he had been hated, feared and despised ever since, which had damaged him and his ability to trust, maybe beyond anyone’s capacity to heal.

But this wasn’t the time or place for that kind of talk. Besides, Linda probably knew or guessed at least half of that from her own sessions with Lucifer.

“I’m just mad,” she finally said, inadequately. “It shouldn’t be like this. I’m trying, but….”

Linda nodded wisely. “Trust doesn’t come easily to him.”

“Understatement of the century.”

“He’ll come around eventually,” Linda stated with conviction. “He’s resilient. The mere fact that he’s still sane proclaims as much.” She clinked her glass against Chloe’s. “Don’t worry so much. Enjoy what you have, which is a lot. Let him make his own realizations in his own good time. Nothing else you can do, anyway. I know from experience.”

Chloe smiled, a little more heartfelt this time. “You’re right. Don’t tear your hair out over the little things, right?”

“Exactly.” Linda nodded at their surroundings. “You’ve got all this, plus the Actual Devil who’s willing to move Heaven and Hell - freakin’ literally - for your happiness. Everything else will fall into place.”

“You’re right,” Chloe said again. “Thanks, Linda. You’re a great friend.”

A hush fell over Lux as the lights dimmed and a spotlight came on over the piano.

Silently, they sat next to each other, listening to Lucifer casting his spell and probably making dozens of people fall in love with him. Those people only saw and heard the enigmatic club owner with the angelic voice, though, while Chloe, with her vantage point of being the Devil’s Consort, could hear passion, love of life, and underneath it all, longing - longing for the life he had left behind. For Lucifer, music equaled Heaven, the home he had lost, the home he told himself he didn’t miss and yet did.

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice said next to her, “why the sad face? You’re much too beautiful to be making such a face.”

She turned her head, intending to make a scathing remark about the lameness of that come-on, but stopped herself. It was a beautiful night, she was happy, she had Lucifer, and she had great friends. Besides, she realized when she took him in, the guy next to her wasn’t half-bad looking.

Linda leaned over to face the guy. “Really?” she said, saying what Chloe had just decided not to say. “That’s your line?” She put a dramatic hand onto her forehead. “Creativity truly is dead.”

“Best thing I could make up on such a short notice,” the guy said, grinning. “You kind of broadsided me. But, yeah, it’s terrible.” He looked from Linda to Chloe and back. “Oh, I’m sorry. You two together?”

Chloe smiled. The guy’s grin was infectious. “No.”

His eyes lit up in renewed hope. He had, Chloe noticed, beautiful bright blue eyes. “If that’s the case, can I buy you a drink? I’m Steve, by the way.”

Linda, clearly deciding that this Steve was cute enough, slid off her barstool to insinuate herself between him and Chloe. “She’s taken, but how about you buy  _ me _ a drink?”

Steve, however, wasn’t so easily distracted. “You’re taken?” he said to Chloe. “Who’s the lucky person?”

Unconsciously, Chloe looked in the direction of the pedestal with the piano on it, belatedly noticing that Lucifer had stopped playing and the DJ had put the music back on.

The Devil was standing next to his instrument, looking all the way across the room at Chloe with hooded eyes, but she could read the dejection in his stance even without being able to read his face.

_ Dammit. _

She got up. “Excuse me,” she said to Steve and Linda, “there’s something I need to take care of.”

 

* * *

 

The doors of the elevator were closing when Chloe reached them. “Lucifer, wait up!” she called.

A hand she’d recognize anywhere slid between the closing doors, halting their movement, and she was relieved. He wasn’t fleeing from her, then, just from the situation.

She stepped into the elevator with him, allowing the doors to close.

He looked at her in artful surprise. “Is the night out with Dr. Linda over already?”

“Not for her,” she said. “At least not if I’m reading the signs right.” She gave him a look of her own. “Lucifer, talk to me.”

He opened his mouth, no doubt to tell her that that talking clearly was what he was doing, but she cut him off.

“Why did you run away just now?” she clarified, knowing the answer, of course.

But he was the Devil, which meant that, for him, things were rarely obvious. “I did not ‘run away’,” he said with dignity. “I merely thought that things had reached a natural conclusion, and that it was a good moment to make an exit.”

“Lucifer.”

He blinked at her. “Yes, Chloe?”

She put all the love she felt for him into how she said his name.  _ “Lucifer.” _

It worked, because she could practically see him drop all pretenses. “I…” he began, then stopped.

The doors opened, revealing the dim lighting of his penthouse.

She took his hands to keep him from fleeing again. “Did you really think I’d throw away all of this, everything we have, just because a cute guy made a pass at me?”

He looked down, up into her eyes, and away again. She could feel his tension in the slim fingers she still held.

“Talk to me,” she said again, softly, glad she didn’t have to add ‘tell me the truth’, because she knew he would. Always.

“I didn’t make my exit because he made a pass at you,” he said, equally softly. “I did it because you smiled at him. You seemed taken by him. I… wanted to give you a choice.”

In between wanting to throttle him for being so dumb, Chloe contemplated that this was something that had indeed changed. Where before he would have been very much in the guy’s face, staking his claim, he now was more inclined to back off. Even though he had more to lose. Even though she’d seen his Devil form and accepted it, and everything else about him.

Or maybe because of it.

“Okay,” she said, dragging him by his hands out of the elevator and towards the couch. “Sit.” She waited until he did, looking up at her out of huge dark eyes.

She sat down next to him, still holding his hands. “Remember when we flew to New York, how you were practically sitting on every other passenger’s lap drawing out their desires?”

He nodded, opening his mouth.

Again, she cut him off. “I was okay with that,” she said. “You know why?”

“Nothing would have come of it,” he said immediately. “I love only you. I will always love only you.” Then his expression morphed into something complicated before clearing. “Oh.”

She smiled. Sometimes he was so cute that she thought she might die from it. “Yeah. ‘Oh.’ I know that nothing will come of it when you do your thing with other humans, so I’m comfortable giving you the space to do it. Why can’t you do the same for me?”

He opened his mouth, then let out the air unused.

“Lucifer,” she said gently, “do you still think you’re somehow not good enough for me?”

He didn’t say anything, which was all the answer she needed.

All this time, everything they had been for each other, all the things they had done together, and he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Clearly, words wouldn’t fix this. She let go of his hands so she could put her arms around him and stroke his back as she pressed her lips to his. “I love you,” she said, drawing back enough to be able to speak. “With all my heart. With everything I am. There will never be anyone else for me, because they all pale in comparison to you.” Another kiss. “What can I do to convince you that this is the truth?”

He looked at her wordlessly.

Suddenly, his wings were out, and he was wrapping them and his arms around her, holding her close. “I’m sorry,” he forced out against her neck. “Sorry for doubting you, sorry for being so dense. And I’m sorry for ruining your evening.” His arms closed around her, letting her feel a fraction of his strength as the warmth and softness of his feathers brushed against the back of her neck. “I’m terribly, woefully, out of my depth.”

“I know,” she said, returning his hug as best she could with the two limbs at her disposal. “Nothing to be sorry for. I know. But please.” She drew back so she could look into his eyes. “Please tell me. How do I convince you that I’m in this for the long haul?”

He made a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “I’ve no idea. I’ve never been in this situation before.”

She framed his face with her hands, stroking his temples, watching his wings droop and his eyes close briefly, and a thought came to her. “Should I swear to you, before my family and yours, to pledge my life and fealty to you for all eternity?”

His eyes turned into two perfectly round dark chocolate pools.

“Because I would,” she went on, “if you did the same. Together, forever.”

A laugh forced itself out of him. “Rick Astley, really? Now?”

He was such a dork, and she loved him so much. “Lucifer.”

“Sorry.” He turned serious again immediately, because he was so much more than just a dork. “Chloe Jane Decker, are you asking me to marry you?”

That gave her pause for a second, and then she smiled. “I guess I am. But in a way that will really mean something to you. Do Celestials do anything like this? I want to do it your way.” She fell silent when she noticed his expression.

He was looking at her dumbfounded and in complete disbelief. “You’re serious?” he asked.

“Like a heart attack.”

“I….” He fell silent, made a gesture with one hand. “Well,” he finally said, “Rick Astley or no, I’m sure we can find a way….” He broke off, looking at her face. “What?”

She realized that she was grinning like a lunatic. “Never gonna give you up.”

“Never gonna let you down.” He, too, was grinning. “I would move Heaven and Earth to be together forever with you.”

They laughed both then, tension broken.

“Right,” Chloe said. “So that’s settled then? We’ll arrange whatever ceremony you guys do, and meanwhile I can go back down and make out with all your cute patrons, and you’ll still know that I love only you, and that nothing will come of it?”

His eyes darkened. “I’d rather you not make out with anyone but me, but if that’s where your free will takes you, my Consort….”

Right. There was still a long road ahead of him, clearly. “Lucifer,” she said, “you have the right to make your feelings about this known, you know.”

He had that soft look on his face that made her wonder how anyone could ever see him as scary, even though she knew that he had layers. “I would never curtail your free will.”

She suppressed a sigh. “I know that. But you still can tell me how you feel about my choices. It’s not the same thing.”

He nodded, looking only half convinced.

“And you haven’t answered my question. Lucifer Morningstar, do you want to marry me? Or whatever Celestials call it?”

“I am already bound to you, body and soul,” he said with that earnestness that tended to make her week in the knees, “so I’ll gladly affirm this in whatever formalized manner you like. And to answer your other question, no, we don’t have anything like the marriage thing you humans have. We don’t pair off for life. We’re too closely related, anyway.”

“Oh.” Her disappointment was acute. She wanted to do this for him, and if it was merely one of the ‘things you humans have’, it wouldn’t serve to reassure him of where she stood.

“At least not as far as I know,” he added. “I haven’t been upstairs in eons, obviously, so I don’t know what Father’s Heavenly Host has been up to since then.” His eyes lit up. “I could ask Sachiel about it. He’s only been down here for a few decades. He should be fairly current.”

Sachiel. Lucifer’s younger brother who had married a human woman, twice, who had fathered a child, twice. If anyone could serve as a valuable source of information, not just about this, but about the other things Chloe had on her mind, it was him. “That’s a great idea,” she said. “Let’s both of us ask him.”

Lucifer’s phone chose that moment to play the first few bars of  _ Hark the herald, angels sing. _

He pulled it out of his jacket, looking at it in disbelief. “That’s Sachiel.”

Chloe laughed, both at the coincidence and at Lucifer’s choice of personalized ringtone. “That’s funny.”

“Maybe he’s a Jedi,” Lucifer said, deadpan, before raising the phone to his ear with a happy smile. “Sach! We were just talking about you.”

Then Chloe watched his face darken and turn downright forbidding. “How did you get that phone?” he said flatly. “Put Sachiel on right now, or I’ll come over and -.... No, absolutely not.”

_ Who is that? _ Chloe mouthed at him. Her cop instincts were wide awake and waving red flags.

He raised his hand, index finger extended. “I said no. That is final. Now give me Sachiel, or live to regret it.” There was a pause. Then, “Ah, Sach. Good to hear you’re okay. You are okay, right?” Another pause. “Yes, I understand. No, no harm done. Bye.”

“Who was that, Lucifer?”

He looked at her, shaking his head as if unable to process his current reality. “That was Ephraim. He wants to talk to me.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Lucifer,” Chloe began.

He looked up from the keys as he was seated at his piano but continued playing; something classical, something Chloe recognized but wasn’t able to name. “Hmm?”

She knew him well enough by now to know that he sought refuge in classical music whenever he was feeling tense. “What exactly did Ephraim want?” she asked.

Stubbornly, he continued playing for a bit, then stopped. “The lunatic wants to ‘give me his version of things’,” he huffed. “Which is preposterous. He killed a human, and then he tried to kill me. How can there even  _ be _ another side to this?”

“I see,” Chloe said slowly. At first glance, she found she agreed with him. The case against the Nephilim was pretty damning, literally. Which got her thinking. “Any idea what he might  _ really _ want?”

He looked down and picked out a short melody before looking up again. “Apart from world domination? No idea. Don’t really care. He’s not my problem.”

Chloe mulled that over for a bit. Again, she couldn’t disagree with him, but her instincts told her there was more to it. Ephraim had gotten hold of Sachiel’s phone, probably by asking for it, considering that he was under lock and key and wouldn’t have had much opportunity for getting it in any other way. He had swallowed his pride and asked, gone to that trouble to contact Lucifer, someone who by rights he couldn’t expect any favors from. Why?

“Maybe talk to Sachiel about it?” she finally suggested.

The look Lucifer gave her was part intrigued and part impatient. “This is important to you, my love,” he stated. “I don’t understand. He’s a proven killer, a megalomaniac. He’s everything the Nephilim are expected to be. Why would you care?”

Why, indeed? Chloe made a gesture, casting about for words. “Are they more irredeemable than the Devil?” she asked. “Is there truly no hope for them?”

His expression softened, and he got up from the piano stool. “Your innate goodness finds it hard to believe in the existence of true evil, right?” he said, taking her hands in his.

“I don’t believe that anyone is truly evil, no,” she said, returning the pressure of his fingers. “There’s a kernel of good in everyone, just like there’s always a capacity for evil. Which is why the concepts of redemption and temptation exist.” She gave a short laugh. “I can’t believe I have to explain this to  _ you, _ of all… angels.”

He returned her smile, acknowledging her point with a rise of his eyebrows.

“I think that Ephraim wants to have a shot at redemption, and he’s appealing to you, because you’re in a similar boat as far as he’s concerned,” she went on.

He snorted. “Well, if this is the case, then I’m the wrong Devil. He’s Sach’s problem, and his responsibility. If Sach doesn’t think he should be allowed to exist, then he must destroy his spawn. If he thinks his spawn deserves a chance, then it’s his decision to give it to him, and everything that happens because of it is on him. It’s nothing to do with me either way.”

“Sachiel is biased,” Chloe pointed out, warming to her theory. “Ephraim killed the woman he loved. Your brother can’t be objective about this at all. Maybe Ephraim wants to appeal to someone who’s a bit more impartial.”

Lucifer scowled.

“Also, we’ve established that he grew up without guidance. He has done terrible wrongs, no doubt about that, but that was because he had no idea what he is, no one to talk to, to even develop a moral compass where humans are concerned. You said that yourself.”

He scowled some more.

Chloe fell silent, her case made.

“It’s really annoying when you’re right like this,” he finally said with underlying fondness. “Alright. I’ll talk to him.”

 

* * *

 

“Mazikeen, it’s time you give it back.”

“Give back what?”

“You know what. I know you pocketed it. It doesn’t belong in your hands. It’s not meant for you. Hand it to me, now.”

“Ugh, fine. Here. Have fun with it, Lucifer.”

 

* * *

 

Chloe had insisted on tagging along, and Lucifer had offered no objection - naturally. On the contrary, he always welcomed her input, valued her perspective, and cherished her entire being. Refusing her anything was not on the agenda.

The meeting took place in Sachiel’s flat - sorry,  _ apartment _ -, an even more modest affair than human dwellings generally were and whose most valuable piece of furniture was the cage in one corner that currently housed his ill-begotten spawn.

Considering the scant few weeks that had passed since the incident that had almost cost Lucifer his eternal life, he had to hand it to his little brother - Ephraim appeared submissive, almost meek. There was none of the haughty superiority the Nephilim had shown when Lucifer had last laid eyes on him, not to mention the glaring lack of murderous rage.

Or maybe that was down to Maze and her Nephilim-sitting skills, he considered, unable to suppress a grin. He very much doubted that his former head demon had pulled any of her punches, and she’d had him in her grasp for twenty-four hours. That tended to render her victims a little subdued.

“Hello, Brother, Spawn,” Lucifer said, striding into the small apartment after Chloe, who stepped aside to leave the playing field to him and do what she did so well - observe and step in when things looked like they needed a Miracle’s input.

“Chloe, Luci,” Sach greeted them, “thanks for coming, and welcome to my home.”

Lucifer nodded, looking in the direction of Sach’s barely adequate kitchen island in hopes of either reminding his little brother of his duties as host or of spotting a bottle of something drinkable and helping himself. If he was going to listen to a bloody Nephilim blather on about how unfair life was and how he didn’t deserve his fate, he would need all the fortification he could get.

_ Maybe should have brought some provisions,  _ he realized belatedly, remembering Sachiel’s awful taste in spirits and the fact that he had left his flask back at home to make room for something else in his suit jacket.

Sniffing, he traced the pervading smell of linseed oil in the room to a corner where a scaffold held a half-finished painting that Lucifer was going to critique at length as soon as the dull part of this visit was over.

“I apologize for all this,” Sachiel went on. “I had no idea what his intentions were when he asked to borrow my phone. If I had known he would bother you -”

Lucifer waved that away. “Never mind that, Sach. But I have to admit that I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Chloe.” As always, saying her name rendered him a little breathless.

Sach threw Lucifer’s Consort a look that was half surprise and half appreciation, tinged with that underlying sadness that shrouded him like a cloak and that made Lucifer want to drag him to an orgy and only let him leave again after at least three days and three nights of constant sexual highs. “You talked my brother into doing something he didn’t want to do,” Sachiel said to her. “The most stubborn and prideful of all of us. You truly are an exceptional human.”

Lucifer smiled, wondering whether anyone could see the light he could feel within himself. “More than you know, Brother.”

He waited.

When, after ten seconds or so, no snort of derision or insulting utterance had emerged from the cage, he found himself moved to say, “What  _ have  _ you done to your spawn, Sach? He seems surprisingly well-behaved.”

Sachiel, apparently remembering his manners just in time, walked to his kitchen and picked up a tray he had prepared. “I haven’t done all that much,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m as surprised as you are. Ephraim,” he added, putting the tray into the floor and sinking down cross-legged next to it, “care to repeat for my brother and his consort what you said to me?”

Lucifer, sitting down on the floor next to Sach, inspected the contents of the tray before selecting a glass and a bottle of cognac, while Chloe, with that charming smile that told Lucifer that she was relaxed and happy and about to engage in something she had rarely allowed herself before, kicked off her shoes and did the same.

“Thank you for coming here, Lucifer, Chloe Decker,” Ephraim was saying from his cage. He sounded strange, as though he was reading off a script. “I really appreciate it.”

“Yes, yes,” Lucifer said, grabbing a donut and happy to discover that Sach apparently preferred the same toppings that he did. To his delight, there was also a bag of gummy bears, the ones from Europe, to boot. “Get on with it.”

Chloe had also taken a glass and, predictably, was opening the bottle of water on the tray.

“All I ask,” the Nephilim went on, “is that you hear me out.”

Lucifer supposed he could do that. If he was right, he already knew what Ephraim was going to say, anyway, and even though listening to a monologue on self-pity wasn’t his idea of fun, he would suffer through it for Chloe. “Fine. I’ll listen. Now get it over with.” Next to him, Chloe was nodding her assent.

He took a sip of his cognac, finding to his surprise that it was one of the better ones. Maybe that dinner they had had a while ago had reminded Sach of the good things in life, even and especially in the face of grief.

Ephraim took an audible breath. “First of all, I know that no apology of mine would be sufficient to erase what I’ve done. I’ve committed a heinous crime, and I will carry the blight of it on my soul for eternity.”

That went without saying, but Lucifer had given his word that he’d listen, so he bit down on the comment and merely waved an imperious hand.

“I understand that what I did was wrong. Many other things I did were wrong as well. I regret them, deeply. I regret bringing pain to my father. I regret cutting a human’s life short. I regret elevating myself above humans in the mistaken belief that I was better. I have since learned that we have all been created equal, if different in small things. The fact that my soul should inhabit a superficially superior body is not my accomplishment. I deserve any punishment my father sees fit to bestow upon me and that my soul will eventually suffer when my time comes.”

Lucifer put down his glass and clapped his hands, slowly. He had given his word that he’d listen, not that he wouldn’t clap. He had listened. So.

“That’s…. wow,” Chloe said. “Those are very beautiful words. Do you mean them?”

“With all my heart,” Ephraim said fervently, which earned him another applause from Lucifer.

“Are you finished?” he enquired, since he’d given his word that he’d hear him out. At the Nephilim’s nod, he went on, “You’ve clearly put a lot of thought into this, but you must admit that it’s a little hard to believe. And they’re just words, like my Consort points out. Anyone could say them.”

“Well, I’m not just saying them. I’ve had a lot of time in this cage to think about things. I’ve also spoken with Father about all of this, at length, and repeatedly. I’ve come to realize that I’m… that I’m in really deep shit.”

Lucifer shook his head in disbelief. “What  _ did  _ you tell him, Sach?”

His little brother shrugged. “Don’t really remember. I was distraught. I remember I yelled a lot.”

“What do you think, my love?” Lucifer asked the light of his life. “Is any of it credible?”

To his surprise, Chloe hesitated. “Not sure. He’s hard to read.” She shook her head. “I’d like to believe him, but I know that doesn’t help. Uh… Is there such a thing as a probation for you guys?”

“No,” Lucifer and Sachiel said at the same time. Lucifer pointed at himself. “Case in point.”

“Punishment tends to be immediate and severe, but when it has been served, the matter is considered bygone,” Sachiel added. He threw Lucifer a glance. “Sometimes, the punishment takes a while.”

“Haha.”

“Sorry.”

Chloe was frowning. “If that’s so, why is Ephraim still alive? Uh, I mean, the punishment for what he did would be death, right?”

Sach looked away, and Lucifer took it upon himself to answer. “Fifty years among humans, give or take, am I right, Brother?”

Sach nodded, still avoiding anyone’s eyes. “Being on Earth has obviously had an effect upon me. I’m sure you’ve felt it, too, Luci. I don’t want his death. I should never have fathered him in the first place, but then I not only abandoned him but I fathered another son, so how can I punish my son for a crime that I carry at least partial liability for and would willingly have repeated?” He finally turned to look at Lucifer. “But you’re a punisher, Lucifer. I trust you to make the right choice.”

Lucifer suppressed a groan. “I’m a punisher, not a judge.” Why was everyone, including his idiot siblings, getting this wrong? “Humans judge themselves, that’s why Father created them with a conscience.” A thought came to him. “Oh,  _ that’s  _ a good idea! Spawn, what do  _ you  _ think you deserve?” He rose from the floor to approach the cage and catch the Nephilim’s gaze. “Tell me. Do you think you deserve forgiveness?”

Ephraim looked into his eyes unblinking. “I….”

“... yes?”

“... No. I don’t deserve forgiveness.”

Lucifer blinked, releasing his charm. He found himself in the unfamiliar situation of not knowing whether it had taken.

“Then, what  _ do _ you deserve?” Chloe asked. She had apparently joined him at the cage without him noticing.

Ephraim blinked at her soulfully. “I deserve redemption. A chance at it, anyway.”

“Really,” Chloe said. “Why? You killed a human, you tried to kill Lucifer, and you did God knows what else. Why should you deserve redemption?”

“Because even the Devil gets a chance at it, so why wouldn’t I?” Ephraim wailed suddenly. “No one truly is irredeemable. I may not even fully understand what I am, and I know I’ve committed crimes, I do, but that doesn’t mean that my life is forfeit! Or at least it shouldn’t! I should have a chance to prove that I’ve learned from my mistakes!” He looked from Chloe to Lucifer and back, and his voice broke. “Shouldn’t I?”

Lucifer felt the touch of Chloe’s hand on his arm as his Consort pulled him back from the cage.

“I can’t read him,” she said softly, sounding frustrated. “I can’t even tell whether he’s sane or not.”

He took her hands, feeling the familiar need to warm her cold fingers. “This is important to you, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I want him to be telling the truth.”

He looked at her. She was all the light in his existence, everything that was good. “Very well,” he said. “Let’s find out, then.”

With that, he pulled the Piercer of Lies out of the inside pocket of his jacket, moved back to the cage with supernatural speed, and thrust the thing into the Nephilim’s chest before Ephraim had a chance to blink.

He collapsed against the cage bars, a surprised look on his face, the silvery spike sticking out of his chest, dead center.

“Right,” Lucifer said into the shocked silence, “let’s do this properly.” He opened the cage and pulled the Nephilim out to lean his upper body against the bars, positioning his limp frame and holding his head to be able to peer into his eyes.

By then, Sachiel had recovered enough to breathe a scandalized “Lucifer!”, while Chloe, with that ability to think on her feet that he had always admired, had again joined him.

“You may speak,” Lucifer said formally, instructing the Piercer to selectively release its target from total paralysis. “You’re under the influence of angelic magic, Ephraim. Your life is not in danger, but your lies are. So, tell me. Was what you told us just now the truth? Do you truly regret your actions? Will you genuinely work on your redemption?”

The Nephilim’s mouth opened. “Yes,” he said tonelessly. “I speak the truth.” His face crumbled, and tears formed in his eyes. “I am so, so sorry for what I did.” He began to cry.

Lucifer watched, waiting for the magic to take full effect, not that there was much more for it to do. The lie-piercing effect of the silvery spike was such that no one should be able to resist it.

“And what about your plans of world domination?” Chloe asked.

“Hubris,” Ephraim sobbed. “I never gave them a single thought again. It’s not my place, anyway. I’m no better than the humans, worse, possibly. Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” He looked away, trying to find Sachiel’s eyes who had hunched down next to Lucifer, on his other side. “Please, father. Let me try to be a dutiful son to you, as far as I am able. Please.”

To his surprise, Lucifer found himself assailed by a feeling he had never experienced before and didn’t have a name for. It made him want to do something crazy like hug someone. To cover the embarrassing impulse, he closed his hand around the Piercer and pulled it out. “I may be getting nauseous,” he commented, “but at least that’s cleared up. Have fun with your spawn, Sach, and thanks for the drink.” He rose from his crouch, giving Chloe a hand up even though she didn’t need it.

They watched Sachiel awkwardly try to hug his spawn who was just regaining his ability to move, and left the apartment in time before the wings came out and things got _really_ sappy.


	3. Chapter 3

Chloe watched Lucifer throw himself into the dinner preparations with a single-minded focus that told her that he was preoccupied with something.

She knew him well enough by now to realize that outright asking him about what was bugging him would only earn her evasions, though, so she said nothing and merely kept close to him, touching him whenever the opportunity arose, brushing his arm, his hand, and finally hugging him from behind as he chopped the garlic and onions. Gradually, she could feel the tension in his muscles begin to ease, which was mission accomplished for now as far as she was concerned. She knew he would talk about it if and when he felt like it, which could be tonight or next year. But she could be patient.

As for herself, she wasn’t very talkative, either; busy processing what had happened this afternoon - the revelation about Ephraim’s true feelings; Lucifer’s sudden and unexpected ruthlessness using the Piercer of Lies whose existence Chloe had almost forgotten about; the lingering worry that all was not as it seemed with the Nephilim despite the indisputable evidence; and last but not least her own mostly unspoken thoughts about what all this might mean for her and Lucifer’s future.

She so wanted to talk to him about it, but he continued to be withdrawn, so she refrained. This wasn’t the time to bring up the possibility of yet another Nephilim - if there ever  _ was _ a good time for it.

When whatever meal he was cooking was beginning to smell delicious - his reply when she asked him what it was had basically been French with a few English words sprinkled in -, Lucifer gave a mighty sigh and a strangely self-deprecating shrug. “Sorry, my love,” he said, “for not being good company tonight.” He turned away from the stove to face her, regaling her with one of his soulful looks.

She smiled, stepping close and placing her arms around his waist in a loose hug. “Likewise.” She reared up on her tiptoes to kiss him, and he bent his head to meet her lips with his halfway. “I forgive you,” she whispered against his mouth, knowing full well what weight those words had for him beyond context.

“As I do you,” he replied, equally softly, “not that it’s needed. You haven’t offended me.” He sighed again. “It’s just that I wouldn’t want to be in Sachiel’s shoes right now,” he said, raising his hands to stroke her face with his thumbs, his skin warm against hers. “If he forgives his son - and it’s looking like he will -, he’ll have the entire family against him, including Dad. Well. Not me, of course. I couldn’t care less about a Nephilim’s fate.”

She raised her own hands to thread her fingers into his hair, waiting.

It took a moment, but finally Lucifer closed his eyes. “That’s not true,” he took back his words with that characteristic respect for the truth that she loved so much. “I do care. Strangely, in this case, I do. Why do I care? Why should the thought about them getting along now make me feel so - funny?” He sighed yet again and bent to kiss the top of Chloe’s head before she could angle it to meet him properly.

She saw her opening and took it. “Maybe,” she suggested gently, “you’re envious?”

The pan on the stove behind him began to make hissing noises, causing him to turn around before he could reply.

For a few minutes, he did whatever he deemed necessary to avert a culinary crisis, then began crunching spice mills, stirring the pot and pan, and adding last-minute ingredients. One of them was honey, which told Chloe that it was one of  _ those _ meals and that she’d need to spend a few hours in the gym in the near future (or have some rigorous sex, another voice added).

“Envious?” he finally echoed her as though there had been no interruption. “Of what should I be envious?” He shut off the stove and began to transfer the contents of pot and pan to bowls and a platter.

“Your brother has something you don’t have,” Chloe explained, picking up one of the bowls to carry it to the dinner table. At his questioning look, she went on, “A child. And a relationship with that child.”

He scoffed. “You know my stance on this. I don’t need a child of my own. Why would I? I never did in all my eons. And even if I did, your offspring would fill that spot nicely. She’s at least tolerable. Whatever spawn I might bring into being can only end up worse.”

And there it was.

Chloe smiled to cover her acute disappointment and didn’t say anything in response. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t try to change his mind on this. She wouldn’t pressure him into agreeing to something he didn’t really want, not if it was such a literally life-changing decision. If he truly didn’t desire having a child with her, she would respect that. She would.

But damn, it  _ hurt. _

“Speaking of, don’t tell her this, but I actually miss the little raggamuffin,” he went on, oblivious. “When will she be back from summer camp again?”

“Next week,” Chloe said, fiercely tamping down on her feelings. “I miss her, too. She’s growing up so fast. She’ll be a young lady soon, with all the problems that come with it.”

Lucifer sat the last bowl onto the table, pulling out her chair for her and sitting down opposite Chloe. “With such an exceptional mother, I hardly think that there will be any issues.”

Chloe wisely said nothing to that and merely gave him a smile. Of course he’d say something like that. Lucifer had no frame of reference - for all his eons of existence, he was basically an eternal teenager himself. Of course he couldn’t imagine what problems being in that stage of life might bring with it. And she herself had been forced to grow up so fast that there hadn’t been time for her to become aware of how difficult puberty could be. She didn’t really have any idea, either. Trixie’s teen years would take them both by surprise.

But that was the future.

They dug in, and Chloe realized that, yes, this was one of  _ those _ meals. She could totally see how gluttony was on the same level of depravity as lust. She could barely suppress a moan at the taste explosions.

Dark eyes glinted at her, Lucifer’s mood instantly restored. “I take it that it’s edible.”

“‘Edible’?” she repeated through her mouthful. “It’s  _ amazing. _ Delicious. You would make a killing as a chef with your own restaurant.”

He grinned. “‘Lucifer’s Delights’?”

“‘The Devil’s Food-House’?” she shot back.

“‘Five-Star Hellhole’? Though I’d have to give you the credit for that one.”

She giggled, remembering. Those had been the days. How naive she’d been, thinking Lucifer was just a weirdo with a mojo she couldn’t explain. And look at her now - about to marry the Actual Devil.

But wait, was she, in fact? They hadn’t done any of the traditionally required stuff like the ring or calling the banns. Wait some more - shouldn’t she get in touch with Lucifer’s Father about this (the mind boggles)? Shouldn’t he ask her mother (not that she’d be in any way opposed if Chloe was reading the signs right). And what about Trixie? Not that she seriously thought her daughter would object either, but she should at least let her give her input.

Yeah, they were getting way ahead of themselves here. Or at least, she was. Again.

Lucifer was giving her a questioning look, and she realized that she’d stopped eating, holding her fork in mid-air. She gave him a reassuring smile and went back to digging in.

All in good time.

 

* * *

 

It was still dark out when Chloe woke up, feeling warm and comfortable. She stretched, opening her eyes briefly to look to her right side where she’d left Lucifer when she fell asleep.

Two softly glowing orange lights were right next to her, surrounded by a familiar dark shape silhouetted against the dim light filtering in through the curtains.

Instead of being confused, weirded out, or even scared, she felt safe, protected. The Devil was watching her, in his true form, as she slept.

Not even questioning any of this, she whispered, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

The lights winked out briefly as he blinked. “I don’t wanna miss a thing.” Even through the cobwebs of sleep, the cadence of his words told her that he was hearing music in his head. She realized she knew the song. Aerosmith.

“I’ll still be here when you wake up,” she reassured him, looking intently into the slow flickering of muted orange fire in his Devil eyes, trying to guess what he was thinking. “And I’ll still love you.”

He blinked again.

She smiled sadly into the darkness. Trust still didn’t come easily to the Devil. Some days, he would be secure about his position in her life; in others, his history of rejection would make it harder for him to believe that this was truly his.

Those were days when words weren’t enough. “Come here,” she whispered, opening her arms for him.

He scooted closer. Hot, alien skin touched hers as he laid his head on her shoulder and his arm came to rest around her waist; she put her hand onto the back of his neck, cupping him protectively, sheltering him. The soft reddish glow vanished as he closed his eyes, settling in.

He was so warm against her cooler human flesh. Carefully, she pulled up the duvet to drape it around his shoulders and keep his hellish heat in, and he responded, snuggling his face in more closely. The strange texture and characteristic scent of his burned skin called to her senses, making her want to feel his wings as well. She had watched Raphael and thought she might imitate the touch the angel had used to make Lucifer’s wings emerge from where he was concealing them, but she could tell that he was getting drowsy, and this wasn’t the time to be selfish. So, she limited herself to angling her head so she could touch her lips and nose to his skull, feel him and smell his familiar roasted marshmallow scent.

She held him like that, stroking his head and neck softly, feeling him relax, hot air whispering against her throat as he exhaled. A soft, questioning hum reached her. Smiling, she hummed back, stroking him, nuzzling him, reassuring him.

Soon after, she could feel him fall asleep as he went completely limp and heavy against her, his breathing evening out. She didn’t stop her humming or her soft stroking, hoping that her touches on his true skin would somehow follow him into slumber and soothe him even when he could no longer see her.

For a while, she was the one lying awake not wanting to miss a thing. She was holding the sleeping Devil in her arms. No way she would ever get used to the enormity and wonder of  _ that. _

*****

The next morning, both Lucifer’s glamour and his uncharacteristic taciturn mood were back in full force, and finally, Chloe couldn’t stand it any longer. “Lucifer.”

He looked up from where he was fiddling with his cufflink. “Hmm?”

Him being the Devil, always truthful, was an advantage in this case. She could come right out and ask him. “What’s on your mind?”

He held her gaze, his expression open, and gave a deep, heartfelt sigh. “That bloody Nephilim. This whole sodding affair.” He sighed again. “And I don’t even know why. It’s nothing to do with me.”

She sat down next to him. Two of his adoringly genteel curses in a row meant that he was truly upset.

He sighed for the third time. “I have this sense of foreboding that I can’t really… No, that’s not true. I can explain it. I guess I’m hoping I’m wrong. Sachiel’s turning against Dad’s express wishes, has been for a while. I’m uniquely qualified to say that this kind of thing tends to not end well.”

She took his hands to stop their fiddling. “Maybe your Father has mellowed out a bit since then.”

That made him chortle. “We’re talking about the Almighty Lord of Heaven, not about a kindly old man who used to have a bit of a temper in his youth.” He shook his head, turning serious again. “And even if you’re right and He’s abandoned his Old Testament ways, there’s still the bloody host of my idiotic siblings who will naturally take it upon themselves to anticipate His --” He broke off. A faraway look came into his eyes.

“Luce?”

He focused on her, now looking beseeching. “Forgive me. I’ve got to go.” He got up and turned away.

“Lucifer!”

“I’m sorry, no time,” he said quickly, not even turning back to look at her, instead running towards the opened balcony doors and vanishing in a flash of white feathers.

Instinctively, Chloe followed him out onto the balcony to look towards where she’d seen him fly off to, surprised to see that the sky was darkening in that direction. Heavy thunderclouds were amassing in one spot of the otherwise deep blue California sky.

Right over the part of town where Sachiel lived.

 

* * *

 

The war lasted for three days and three nights.

For once, Chloe wasn’t even a spectator of the battle. Instead, unable to reach anyone of the Celestial family, not even by prayer, she had to rely on inadequate human news coverages like everyone else. Said news coverage began by terming it “a natural disaster of unknown origin”, mostly because of the isolated, stationary thunderstorm that didn’t let up and that no meteorologist could account for. Less official voices, human nature being what it was, began to speak of the Apocalypse not much later.

In hindsight, it was a miracle that there never was any widespread panic. Or was it?

By the end of the first day, the ground started to shake enough to register on seismographs. Irregular flashes of light kept illuminating the sky like a gigantic flickering light bulb, looking nothing like normal lightning bolts and a lot like supernatural activity. Electronic equipment kept failing. LA residents began to flee the area, but again, being humans, they didn’t flee fast or far.

Human law enforcement found their hands full preventing riots and lootings, and for almost the whole day, Chloe was too busy helping out to worry about Lucifer and his brothers and sisters.

During the first night, the epicenter of what was now being termed “The Phenomenon” moved up into the air to a new position some few thousand feet above ground, leaving behind a pit of devastation about half a mile across. Chloe wasn’t surprised to find out that Sachiel’s flat, or rather what was left of it, was right in the middle of it.

On the second day, The Phenomenon was attracting the first disaster tourists, helicopters, drones, and news crews from all over the world. For some reason, the public was now becoming certain that the strange thing was pretty contained and could be approached with hardly any danger. Countless videos appeared on the Internet, shot by people who had done just that, and Chloe studied many of them in search for clues for what was going on, but the cloud cover was nearly impossible to see through.

Again, in hindsight, that probably wasn’t a coincidence.

On the third day, LA life was pretty much returning to normal in most parts of the city. The first preparations for reconstruction began on the ground right underneath the whirling and flashing Phenomenon; citizens went back to work, and the professional and amateur news crews, tired of reporting the same thing over and over, thinned out, leaving behind the network crews waiting for a change of status.

At the end of the third night, as Chloe was standing on the balcony of Lucifer’s penthouse worrying about her Devil and watching The Phenomenon flash and grumble in the distance, she was surprised to find she wasn’t alone.

“You’re a mother,” the middle-aged man who had seemingly appeared out of thin air addressed her without preamble.

Chloe nodded, by now too inured to things she couldn’t explain to even ask him who he was and how he had gotten here. Then she noticed his wise blue eyes, his British accent, and was suddenly convinced that she should be using capitals to address Him, and her mind briefly went offline.

He nodded at The Phenomenon. “How long should I let this go on?” He mused, half to Himself and half to her. “My children are playing a little rough. Apparently, it’s a good idea to let it go on for a bit. But when should I put a stop to it? When one of them bleeds? When one of them starts to cry? When there’s been a casualty?” He turned to her fully. “What do you think, child?”

“I…” she trailed off, too floored by what was happening to think straight. “I’m….”

He gave her a benevolent smile. “Come now, you’re usually such a quick thinker. Never mind who I am. Just tell Me when I should douse them with a proverbial bucket of water. Wouldn’t want to come across as an overbearing single parent, but obviously, being too hands-off isn’t good either, so….”

“There hasn’t been a casualty yet?” Chloe asked the only thing that was on her mind.

“Nope,” He said, popping his ‘p’ in the same way that Lucifer did. “Several close calls, but no dead ones yet. I made them quite hardy, you know.”

_ Focus, _ she told herself furiously, reassured by this knowledge.  _ Just focus on the question. _ “I usually intervene when there are tears,” she offered. “Genuine tears. Or when there’s risk of injuries worse than skinned knees. You know.” She dared to look at Him, wondering whether He did. “There’s really no standard answer.”

“Hmm,” He acknowledged her, looking out into the distance at something only He could see. “Let’s see, then. They’re all bleeding but not slowing down. There’s much cursing and tag-teaming. You can see the displays of power for yourself. They’re really getting a good workout, I’d say. A couple of broken bones, nothing serious yet. So, should I let them go on with their playing?”

“Why are they fighting?” Chloe couldn’t resist asking.

He looked at her, then back at the war zone. A particularly bright flash illuminated His face. “That was Samael,” He said proudly. “He always did like his light shows. He now calls himself Lucifer, though. Fitting name, don’t you think?”

She opened her mouth, but there were suddenly so many questions in her mind that the words piled up and toppled over like excited puppies, so she ended up saying nothing.

“They’re fighting over Sachiel’s son. Some of them want the little bugger dead, others are opposed.” He shook His head. “I turn My head for five minutes, or possibly for a few millennia, and suddenly the kids are all grown up and living their own lives, complete with children of their own.” He looked back at her. “It’s a little daunting, thinking about letting go. They’re still so young, but I guess I must let them develop their own conscience at one point or another. Let them make their own mistakes without judgement from Me, no?”

By now, all Chloe could come up with was, “Uh-huh.”

It seemed sufficient. He nodded, his features assuming a tragic expression. “Thought so. Well. Time to break this up, then, don’t you think? One last act of parental supervision before I resign Myself to becoming a multiple grandfather who only gets a call from His children whenever they need a sitter?”

She nodded, at an utter loss for words. “Uh-huh.”

That earned her an amused look. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered. Well. Be seeing you, Chloe Decker. You’re doing great, by the way.”

Before she could respond to any of that or her sudden sense of déjà vu, He was gone.

The Phenomenon dissolved and disappeared not five minutes later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait; it took a bit for the story to decide which way it wanted to go. But now we're on track! Thanks for sticking with me. One more chapter to go.


	4. Chapter 4

“Ow,” Lucifer said, indistinctly, but with a definite whining undertone.

He lay draped across his bed, on his belly, wings spread to both sides of him and face buried in his arms and the pillow he was hugging. A sheet underneath him protected his bedding from the blood and grime that covered him and what was left of his clothes.

Normally, Chloe might have admonished him not to be such a baby. After all, he wasn’t seriously hurt - just exhaustion, scrapes and bruises, one mostly decorative bleeding cut above his left eyebrow, a sprained wrist, and seriously bedraggled and bloodied wings. He’d even managed to avoid getting any of his bones broken, unlike, Chloe suspected, some of his siblings. 

But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t miserable or in some pain, and in all honesty, Chloe had no idea how it felt getting a feather plucked, so she was cutting the Devil a little slack.

The feather in question had had almost two thirds of its length broken off and was now a pathetic, almost bare white stem about ten inches long and as thick as her index finger, and apparently an irritant whenever he moved his wing, which was why it needed to be removed pronto, like a hangnail. It also was still firmly anchored in Lucifer’s body. A little too firmly, as she had discovered.

“Sorry,” she said, fixating his wing with one hand and adjusting her grip on the stem of the broken feather. “I’m trying again now, okay?”

He mumbled something she assumed to be assent.

She gave a firm yank; Lucifer hissed into the pillow, and this time, the thing came free after a bit of resistance, its root red with blood. Chloe dropped it onto the plate next to the bed with the other two broken feathers she had already plucked without looking at them too closely, fearing there might be bits of Lucifer stuck to them. She wondered briefly whether her making him vulnerable was the reason she was able to pull them out at all.

He’d come back from the three-day-battle half an hour ago, reduced to getting a lift from Maze because he’d been unable to fly (“I didn’t want to bother you, my love, and Maze used to be at my beck and call for eons, and also I wasn’t thinking clearly”). He’d made a beeline for his bed, barely giving Chloe the time to protect his duvet with the sheet, before collapsing face down across it, and hadn’t budged since.

He’d also not said a lot about what had happened.

Neither had Chloe. In fact, she was glad about the time this had given her to process the fact that she’d been talking to God (or rather, that He’d mostly talked at her while she’d been busy trying to keep from freaking out).

“Was that all of them?” she finally asked, hoping not to have to do that again.

He raised his wings off the bed and flapped them experimentally, weakly, without moving otherwise. “Think so,” his muffled voice came. “Thank you.” His wings flopped back onto the bed like wet rags, bouncing once, the feathers rustling softly.

Yep, one exhausted Devil.

Not even bothering to wonder why he was so cute when he was like this, Chloe sat down next to him, stroking a hand down his back and along one ruffled wing. Should she make him get up again and take a shower, or at least get out of his ruined suit? She probably should at least get out of his proximity for a bit to let him heal properly, but then again, he’d come here, to her, so….

Then the call of his wings, still looking so ruffled, became too strong to resist. Settling in next to his warm body, she put one hand into his plumage and began preening the feathers one by one, feeling a sense of peace come over her as she groomed him and listened to his soft hums of pleasure, and when his breathing evened out soon after, she realized that everything else could wait.

 

* * *

 

She got her full-body hug, wet wings and all, a few hours later in the shower, and things progressed from there.

 

* * *

 

“I saw Dad,” Lucifer said, back to looking healthy and presentable, black hair curling slightly with residual moisture. He sounded flabbergasted even this long after the fact.

Chloe nodded, biting her lip.

“He was there, with us. We could actually see Him.” He put a distracted hand onto his forehead, touching the cut and checking his fingertips, but the wound had stopped bleeding for good. “He told us to ‘cut out this nonsense’, so we did. Out of sheer incredulity.” He shook his head, still visibly unable to process this. “Bloody typical. Eons of silence, not a bloody word from Him, and then we’re just told to ‘cut it out’.”

She nodded again. “Actually,” she began.

“I still don’t know what to make of that,” he went on, too distracted to acknowledge her interjection. “No word of reproach about me not being in Hell. Or about Amenadiel and Sach being here on Earth, interacting with humans. Or about Ephraim’s very existence, which was the whole bloody reason we were fighting. No word about any of it. Just ‘cut it out’. Michael was mighty pissed about the lack of parental praise for his initiative, I could tell.”

So, Chloe realized, Michael had been among those who had tried to end the Nephilim’s existence, thinking he was acting on God’s orders, or at least in His interest.

Lucifer looked at her. “What does it mean? ‘Cut it out’? Should we all cease what we’ve been doing and go back to our Dad-appointed tasks like good little soldiers?” He snorted. “Like that’ll happen.”

“I think He simply meant for you to stop brawling before one of you really got hurt.”

He shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like Dad. Much too straightforward.”

“Still. It’s what I think.”

Something about her tone must have registered with him, because he peered at her curiously. “Any particular reason why you think that?”

“I, uh…. I may… have received a visit. From your Dad. While you were out fighting.”

She had the pleasure of watching his mouth literally fall open. “Seriously?”

“Uh-huh.”

He continued to gape at her.

She shrugged her most casual shrug. “Came to ask for advice, in fact.”

He snorted. “You  _ can’t _ be serious.”

“It’s true.”

“My Father. The Almighty. God. Asked for advice?” He peered at her with his head tilted to one side. “Are you sure it was Him? What did He look like?”

She thought. “Nothing like you. Middle-aged, not as tall, slight stature. Blue eyes. Kindly face, but not like He’s so often depicted, so no beard or white hair. Expression a little whimsical, perhaps. Similar accent.” She thought some more. “He doesn’t have a physical form, though, right? So He could have looked like whatever He wanted, right?”

He nodded, obviously too distracted by the implications to comment on that. “So, what did He ask you for advice about?”

She smiled, remembering. “Wanted to know when it’s a good time to break up the brawl.”

His expression darkened. “And you gave Him a right good right hook, I hope?”

“Lucifer.”

“Eons!” he nearly shouted, eyes flashing red fire as his temper flared. “Eons of silence! Eons of reducing us to guessing His intentions, of never knowing whether anything we did was right! Uriel, Amenadiel, me, every bloody one of us, everyone thinking we were doing what He wants and constantly being at each other’s throats because of it!” He got up and started to pace, gesticulating wildly.

“Amenadiel kept dragging me back to Hell for millennia because he thought that’s what Dad wanted him to do! Michael guarded the gates of Heaven against me because he didn’t think Dad would allow me back in! Uriel wanted to kill Mum, kill  _ you, _ because he thought that it was in Dad’s interest! My siblings kept away from humans all this time because they thought He’d disapprove! Sachiel nearly self-flagellated himself over his spawn’s existence because he thought he committed the ultimate sin in His eyes, and Michael led a charge against Sach,  _ his own brother, _ because of it!”

He paced some more, hands flying as he directed his tirade partly at her and partly at the ceiling. “And all the time, none of us were sure about  _ anything! _ Prayer after prayer directed at Him, and all we got is silence! And then He just turns up out of the blue and asks for advice about ending a bloody  _ brawl?!” _

Getting up as well, she took his hands to calm him, as unafraid of him as ever. “Lucifer. No matter what, you don’t just hit your elders. I agree that things need to be brought out into the open, at lot of things, a lot of grievances, but violence never solved anything, especially among family.”

He continued to glare for a bit, then the fire in in his eyes cooled. Sighing explosively, he smiled at her. “I’ll never understand how there can be any good left for the rest of humanity after He infused it all into you.”

There really was nothing she could say to that, but since he’d seemed to at least have come off his rant, she gladly took it.

He returned the pressure of her fingers with his, sighed deeply, and sat down again. “So, was that all? He didn’t say anything else? No Godly comment on why we were fighting? No, dare I say it, word of apology?”

She tried to recall the conversation. It didn’t help that her brain had been offline through most of it. “I got the impression that He was, well, ‘sorry’ may be too strong, - astonished? - slightly regretful? - about having been inattentive for so long,” she finally said. “Didn’t want to be overbearing, if you can believe that.”

Lucifer snorted.

“I…” She took a breath. “I also don’t think He actually minds the Nephilim. Said He expects to be called into service as a sitter before too long.”

For the second time today, she was regaled with the sight of the Devil gaping at her in astonishment. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, “but are you sure you didn’t hit your head or dream the whole thing?”

She shook her head. “Nope. No dream. Absolutely sure about that.”

He continued to look at her for a bit; then he chuckled. “Well. Michael will be pissed when he hears that. He’s been so righteous about his ‘mission’, it was unbearable.” His chuckles turned into genuine laughter. “Well, sorry Mike, it’s all been for nothing! Your righteous anger, all of us losing our tempers and lots of feathers over the bloody spawn, and it turns out Dad ‘doesn’t mind’. It’s hilarious!”

“Yeah.” Chloe smiled, charmed by his mood changes and much preferring this one over the angry one, even if it had a touch of hysteria to it. “Next time, maybe try talking it out first?”

He gave her one of his adoringly devilish grins. “Where would be the fun in that?”

She shook her head, unable to suppress a smile. Angels. Children, the lot of them. “Right. So, what’s next? You guys cool now with each other? All the longstanding feuds over? No more staying away from humans?” She considered her next words, then forged ahead. “All of you ready to go make little half-angels so God can babysit them?”

He snorted. “I know, right? All that’s missing to make this  _ really _ surreal is an actual apology from Him about throwing me out of the house and not answering the phone ever since.” Then he stopped, throwing her a look. “Wait, are you still thinking about that?”

She looked down, then met his gaze. “Maybe. Occasionally.”

For a minute, he looked at her wordlessly, then he reached out to frame her face in his large hands, a quizzical smile on his face. “You humans and your desire to procreate. I suppose I can’t blame you, since Dad made you like that. But I confess that it’s completely and utterly baffling to me.” His thumbs stroked her cheek with that aching tenderness she so loved.

The realization hit her hard - he loved her so much that he would go along with her wishes now if she pressed him. Which wouldn’t make it the right decision, or necessarily a good thing for Lucifer. The Devil, paradoxically, could be so selfless as to harm himself to please the one he loved; after all, he’d literally died for her, twice. Being loved by him was such a huge responsibility that Chloe sometimes doubted she if she could resist abusing it.

Just take this moment. It would be so easy to just be selfish and talk him into having a child with her; especially considering that she had all her arguments lined up, thanks to the time she’d already spent thinking about it. All she’d need to do was ask him why humanity’s urge to procreate was so alien to him considering that his brother Sachiel, who was as much an angel as Lucifer was, had already fathered two Nephilim. And now that God’s presumed objection to the half angels’ very existence was off the table….

He was still looking at her with his huge dark eyes, open and trusting. If there ever was a time for it, it was now.

The image of the fetus Nephilim with its two tiny wing buds on its back that Ella had shown them a while ago danced before her eyes. She had thought about this so often - getting to raise Lucifer’s child, witnessing the first words, the first steps, the first flight. She wanted this. She did.

But, like they didn’t quite say, a Nephilim wasn’t just for Christmas. They were half-celestials, with the corresponding life span, powers, issues. And Lucifer was many things, and he was positively wonderful with Trixie, but who knew whether he could ever be a good father to his own child. Whether she herself could cope with a half-human child, for that matter. Nephilim might not be inherently evil after all, but that didn’t mean raising one would be a piece of cake. They’d both need to be completely on board with this.

The worst thing that could happen was that Lucifer might come to resent his child, or, worse, resent her for making him father one.

No.

She’d only press this if she knew, really knew, that it was what Lucifer truly wanted. They were a team, after all, and this was not something he should just be following her lead with.

“I know,” she merely said, dropping it for now - or forever -, leaning forward to kiss him. “I love you anyway.”

 

* * *

 

“You own a piano,” Ephraim said, awed.

“Two, actually.” Lucifer’s voice betrayed his pride. “In this building, that is. I own many more. It’s a pain keeping all of them tuned, I can tell you.”

Chloe watched, amused by Satan’s feeble attempt at self-deprecation, while around them, the party went on. And on, and on.

Two days ago, Lucifer had decided to invite all his siblings who wanted to come into his penthouse, now that God’s presumed standing orders of them keeping away from humanity had been voided, and share his love for his home on Earth with them. The familiar faces of Earth’s resident angels had shown up first, but soon, a steady trickle of Celestials Chloe hadn’t met before started coming in, all of them bearing food, all of them hesitant, almost shy.

Before too long, the “Dad’s not dead apparently” party had turned into a giant reconciliation party. First, a crowdfunding for the rebuilding of Sachiel’s apartment had yielded a small fortune (mostly sponsored by Michael, who had discovered his conscience), the excess of which would be turned into a charity for humans as soon as Lucifer decided which one. This, in turn, had evoked all the banter regarding the Devil and altruism that a bunch of resentful immortals could come up with, but finally, and in the face of the spectacular battle they all had just lived through, these old grievances began to slowly but surely soften and dissolve. The fact that a lot of alcohol was involved probably had something to do with it.

Mostly, though, Chloe suspected that they’d all been waiting for a chance to let bygones be bygones, and to just be a family again.

They had passed the big discussion stage, the sulking in various corners stage, the one-on-one talks. They all had tried to make time to talk to Chloe, all of them curious and strangely respectful towards this human who had seemingly tamed the Devil. Lord only knew what had gone on while Chloe had needed to take a few hours of timeout to get some sleep.

When she came back, the smell of food had been in the air, and now, Lucifer’s floors and all of his furniture were covered with pillows and platters and bowls and decanters, and of course, angels.

“I wish I could play,” Ephraim said, sounding wistful.

The Nephilim had been among the last guests to turn up. Understandably, he’d been unsure about his welcome, but following two days of revelry without a single fight breaking out, Sachiel had decided that his son would be safe among his former enemies and had invited him, with Lucifer’s permission.

Chloe was aware that she was witnessing an historical event of epic proportions - not only was the Devil freely consorting with angels and no one was trying to drag him back to Hell, but also a Nephilim had joined them unchallenged. In fact, the biggest conflict she was aware of that had occurred so far was the occasional argument over what song to play next on Lucifer’s sound system.

“Well,” Lucifer said to Ephraim, “have you ever tried?”

“I’ve never even been near a piano before.”

“Too busy plotting world domination?” the Devil couldn’t resist getting a dig in.

Ephraim sighed, but nodded. “Something like that, anyway.”

“Never too late to learn.” Lucifer sat down on the piano stool and opened the lid of the baby grand. Patting the stool next to him, he added, “go on, then.”

With a surprised smile, Ephraim sat and imitated Lucifer putting his fingers onto the keyboard.

Their actions were beginning to attract attention. Probably sensing a spectacle, someone got hold of Lucifer’s remote and turned down the music, while one by one, the angels drifted close.

Ephraim blushed hard at the sudden audience, but Lucifer, completely in his element, merely grinned. “Just use one hand and stay on the black keys for now, and stay in four-time, like one - two - three - four, go.”

Chloe had been where Ephraim was now; barely competent next to the angel of music, hitting keys haphazardly while Lucifer’s accompaniment turned the tinkling into something wonderful. She knew the feeling, understood why the Nephilim was beginning to smile so broadly. And because they were all celestial beings with music in their blood, before too long, Lucifer’s improvisation gained a choir, and Chloe found her phone to record the whole thing.

A motif developed, was repeated a few times; someone put words to it, causing a few laughs, and soon, a hymn-like chant had come into existence. Chloe didn’t understand the words - they were probably in the Celestial language -, but after the third repetition or so, she found she couldn’t resist singing along by rote. She caught Ephraim’s engrossed look as he played the motif with increasing confidence. Then the chant developed a harmony, and what happened next was, well, divine.

In hindsight, it was only fitting that, all of a sudden, a new guest arrived just then, by simply appearing amongst them.

Silence fell. Everyone stared at the slight form. Chloe, recognizing Him, barely managed to find the stop function of her recording.

“Really,” God said into the silence, “‘Shine On, Yellow Star’? That’s what you’re going with?” He inclined His head thoughtfully. “Well, why not?”

“At least we could be sure that Luci would know the words to that,” Michael said after a moment, “contrary to the songs we made up later. Hello, Father.”

“What’s ‘Shine On, Yellow Star’?” Chloe whispered in Lucifer’s ear.

“Nursery rhyme,” he whispered back. “Mum used to recite it to each of us when we were little.”

But Chloe had no time to ponder the image of Lucifer as a small child in his Mother’s arms, because, well, she was in the presence his Father.

“Hello, My children,” He was saying. “Good to see you getting along so well for a change.” He turned to Lucifer and Ephraim, the latter of whom was staring open-mouthed. “Nice going, Son, as always. Grandson, you’ll learn.” He turned back to the assembled gaggle - flock? Host? - of angels still gaping at him. “Don’t let me keep you from your party, children. Is there any booze left for your Creator?”

“Wait.” Lucifer had risen from his stool.

God turned back to His son to look at him, a question in His eyes.

“I haven’t bidden You welcome to my home, Dad.” His voice sounded stony.

“Luce….” Chloe whispered, hoping his angelic hearing would pick it up anyway, and the implied warning to behave.

They stared at one another. Lucifer’s face looked as forbidding as his voice had sounded, while God’s expression was neutral but open.

“Oh no,” Azrael said clearly.

“Here we go again,” someone muttered. Chloe thought it had sounded like Amenadiel.

“Luci, I swear….” That was Michael.

Ignoring them all, God nodded and smiled. “Know what, you’re right. Terrible manners, just barging in like that. Lucifer, am I welcome in your home?”

There was an audible gasp that Chloe couldn’t help but join in. That had sounded an awful lot like an apology.

The Devil didn’t move for a long minute; then he, too, smiled. “Welcome, Dad. There’s single malt in the - well. You know where everything is, right?”

Everyone relaxed, and Chloe felt herself smiling widely. Someone put the music back on; God got Himself a drink - Chloe wondered whether He would even feel the effect of the alcohol, but she supposed being all-powerful He could become tipsy if He chose to. Lucifer joined Him at the bar, leaving Ephraim behind, still seated at the piano, staring blankly.

“I’m related to Him,” Ephraim said, half to himself and half to Chloe, who was still standing next to him. “To God Himself. He’s my grandfather. That’s…. I can’t even grasp it.” He looked at God and Lucifer, just standing next to one another talking like they hadn’t been estranged for eons. “This is all so surreal.”

Chloe smiled.  _ Welcome to the club, _ she wanted to say but didn’t. Despite everything, she still wasn’t completely at ease around the Nephilim.

“Why did He let me do what I did?” Ephraim mused. “Why didn’t He strike me down before I committed all these evil acts? If I’m His grandson, why didn’t He at least tell me that what I was about to do was wrong? If I’m His creation, why did He make me the way I am?”

Now, Chloe found she couldn’t remain silent. “Why did He make Lucifer a rebel?” she countered. “Why did He create a son that He would soon have to cast into Hell, if He’s all-knowing?”

Ephraim looked at her in surprise. “I’ve never thought about that,” he said, sounding very young.

Chloe found herself unable to reconcile this strangely gentle being with the raging maniac that had once dragged her up into the air and threatened to drop her in order to force Lucifer’s hand. “Looks like you’ll at least have the chance to ask Him directly. Lucifer never had that, until now.” She looked at Father and son, talking calmly, occasionally waving a hand but with no visible agitation.

“Ms Decker,” Ephraim said hesitantly, causing her to look back at him. “I never apologized for what I did to you; what I was about to do. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

_ Well, _ Chloe thought,  _ if all these angels and the Devil can do it, so can I. _ “Apology accepted.”

Ephraim smiled, and Chloe realized that he was as much family for her as Azrael and Michael were.

Time to get to know her family. “So, tell me,” she said, sitting down on the piano stool next to him, “have you ever played Monopoly?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. Totally not where I had planned this to go. I swear, these characters are really developing minds of their own ;)
> 
> I hope you liked it anyway, and thanks for reading!


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